


The Prada Plan

by gingeringfigs



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeringfigs/pseuds/gingeringfigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro is a manipulative dick and D is a fashion junkie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prada Plan

The fashion show of Prada’s latest collection showcase had been a resounding success. Bro Strider flicked through the photos on his iPhone with a faint satisfied smirk before pocketing it as he got on his Harley Davidson motorbike. He was currently in New York City as he had been called in to dj the music for the fashion show as well as critique the next after the next new fashion trends by his contacts in the fashion industry. The side-job paid extremely well and Bro frequently got freebies, (usually as a bribe to make him model on the catwalk - it never worked though, much to the distress of the fashionistas).

 

But Bro had a good use for the new freebies he got this time and he was going to milk them for all it’s worth. Easily driving through the traffic of NYC, he slid into the driveway of a discreet hotel and disembarked. Tipping the receptionist with a jaunty tip of his cap, Bro grabbed his custom key off the desk and headed for his room without fanfare. Unlocking the door, he nudged the door open with his foot and dumped his backpack and a suitcase on the coffee table. He took out his iPhone and sent off a text to turntechGodcomplex with a sly smirk. Putting down the phone on the counter, Bro made himself a cup of coffee as he whistled a tune. This was going to be fun.

 

Sure enough, the phone was already ringing loudly on the counter, almost jumping off it within seconds. Bro let the caller wait some more, savouring his coffee at leisure. Let him sweat a little. The phone continued to ring persistently and angrily through out the ten minutes Bro took to finish his coffee. Finally putting the cup down in the sink, he picked up the call and greeted nonchalantly, “Yes? What can I do for you?”

 

“You slow fucker. Pick up the phone faster next time. What if the clothes are all sold out by the time we finish talking, huh?”

 

“Dude, can’t a guy enjoy his cuppajoe in peace?”

 

turntechGodcomplex, otherwise more widely known as Mr D. Strider, famous Hollywood film director of the SBAHJ franchise, made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat.

 

“Fashion sells quickly and I’m not taking any chances.”

 

“So what do you want me to do exactly?” Bro asked blandly as he strolled over to the couch and made himself comfortable.

 

“You know very well what I want you to do, you philistine.”

 

Bro restrained a low chuckle from escaping his mouth at the petulant tone. He could be really childish sometimes despite his age. Leaning back into the sofa, he glanced over at his backpack and the suitcase before answering, “Hey, don’t take that tone with your dealer. Who’s the one supplying you here? You’re like a junkie. A fashion junkie.”

 

“Aw, come on, Bro. Do I have to prostrate myself and beg for the next fix like a crack addict? Tell me that you’ve already placed an order or heck, put in a word for me dude.”

 

“No can do. I am stating the price here and you are going to pay it. No ifs and buts, D.”

 

“…”

 

“Well?” Bro prompted.

 

His reply was resigned and sulky, “Fine. What do you want.”

 

“Are you alone right now?”

 

“…no. Oh no, you are NOT doing what I think you are doing. You sadist.”

 

“Tick tock.” Bro smirked.

 

“Hnnnghhh…fine. Give me a sec.”

 

As Bro listened carefully, he could hear D’s muffled voice sternly ordering the other people with him to leave. D finally continued the call in a hushed voice, “So. What now then, o fashion dealer. What shall I have to do to appease your fickle desires and get what I crave for? I ain’t got much time for this you know.”

 

As much as Bro would have liked to continue the banter, he was already growing impatient. He curtly said, “Make time for me then, Mr. Knight of Time. Strip.”

 

* * *

 

D. Strider, (who was also known as Dave but since there was another younger Dave Strider, he preferred to be known simply as D or Strider), pulled his iPhone away from his ear and stared at it with wide eyes behind his shades. His mouth was slightly open in his surprise at Bro’s brusqueness. Quickly recovering his composure, D answered Bro with a teasing drawl, “Haha, who’s the impatient one now huh?”

 

“Like I said, I’m the one with access to your coveted clothes here. Do you not want them?”

 

D’s shoulders tensed. He considered. He finally answered, “So what happens if I say no.”

 

“Then I won’t do anything and the clothes will go to someone else instead. Like say, oh, Matthew McConaughey.”

 

D was appalled. He couldn’t stand the thought. He almost screeched, “No! You aren’t doing that!”

 

“Heh.”

 

“… _Shit._ ” D muttered as he heard Bro’s smug chuckle. He’d lost the battle of wills and he had a very strong desire to punch that smug smirk off Bro’s face. Sulking resentfully, D began to loosen his tie as he said, “Yeah yeah, laugh it up, chuckles. I’m stripping.”

 

Bro purred in his ear, “Very good. But not so fast. I want you to prop your phone up and turn the camera on. Then strip slowly.”

 

D’s grip on his phone tightened briefly before relaxing as he took a deep breath and exhaled. He mumbled, “Fine. You’re bossy”. Then he acted as Bro ordered, grabbing a stack of folders and sliding it across the table to act as a support for his phone.

 

He put the phone on speaker mode, turned on the phone camera and propped it up against the folders. Remembering one more thing, D held up a finger to the camera and went over to the door of the room to lock it. He finally returned to the sofa and ran his hand down his gear-patterned tie. He leaned over and asked in hushed tones, “Can you see me? This is so indecent, you realise.”

 

“Yes, I can see you just fine. Move back a little so I can see all of you.”

 

D pursed his lips and scooted the sofa back a few inches away from the table.

 

“How about now?”

 

“Perfect. Now get on with the show.”

 

D took another a deep breath and exhaled to steady his nerves. This wasn’t the first time that they had cyber sex but it was always a bit nerve-wracking for him. He was more comfortable being behind the cameras than being in front of them to be honest. Leaning back against the sofa and putting on his best pout, D unravelled his Hermes tie, running his fingertips slowly along the fine silk. He hummed lightly as he pulled it free from his collar, delighting in the friction of the smooth silk and cotton rubbing against his neck.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Bro had already switched over to his laptop, enlarging the video for a better view of D’s strip-show. Pushing the screen back, he paid close attention to D’s fingers unbuttoning his white Armani shirt. Keeping his phone to his ear, Bro ordered, “Slower. I don’t like it when it’s rushed.”

 

On the screen, D stopped with a scowl before resuming unbuttoning his shirt at a slower pace, languidly sliding his hands down his increasingly exposed torso. He replied, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do it so slowly like a goddamn snail that you will want to tell me to go faster.”

 

“Hm, we shall see.”

 

D scowled again at Bro’s smug tone before he shrugged, making his black jacket slip off his shoulders and hang around his elbows. His white shirt untucked and unbuttoned, D leant forward and sultrily drawled, “So, tell me. What would you do if I were doing this right on your lap? I bet that you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

 

“We could enact on that the next time and see what happens, if you really want to make the bet.” Bro calmly replied, no trace of any embarrassment in his voice. D was slightly disappointed by the lack of reaction but he was already expecting that from Bro. It was one of their frequent little games, trying to see who could make each other lose their cool first. D slid his arms out of the jacket sleeves and held it up in the air for a few seconds in front of the phone camera with a raised eyebrow before casually dropping it on the floor, out of sight.

 

D idly fiddled with his cufflinks as he questioned, “So hey, do you want me to keep the shirt on or is it the full Monty?” as he toed off his leather Salvatore Ferragamo shoes. It was very frustrating for D to be unable to see Bro’s face and only hear his voice. For all he knew, Bro could have had invented another autoresponder like Dirk.

 

“Leave the shirt on. I don’t like repetitions,” was Bro’s response. D snorted and said, “You’re paying for the laundering and ironing bills afterwards. It’s going to get wrinkled as fuck.”

 

Bro only mimicked the ticking noise of the clock and D wisely shut up. Leaving the cufflinks on, he lowered his hands to his belt buckle and unbuckled the belt. He couldn’t help but quip, “While your taste in fashion is atrocious, you do have some good taste in the basics. I like your belts, in fact, I’m wearing yours right now.”

 

“How fascinating. I rather enjoy the idea of you wearing my clothes.” Bro said in a heavily innuendo-laden tone.

 

D’s cheeks flushed against his will as he belatedly realised the implications of that. Well crap, 1- 0 in Bro’s favour. Bullishly ignoring his blush, D tugged the belt free from the belt loops of his pants, lifting his hips off the sofa in a deliberate roll. He dropped Bro’s belt onto the floor and his fingers lingered over the button of his pants.

 

* * *

 

At the same time, Bro was enjoying the show and seeing D flustered. It was a pity that he was only seeing this online instead of live in person, but it was still better than nothing. Deciding to needle D a bit more, Bro ordered, “Stop. Raise your hips higher and move a little closer.”

 

In response, D raised a middle finger to the camera but grudgingly did as he ordered, shimmying closer to the table. Raising his right foot onto the table, he bent over and pulled his sock off. Dropping it on the floor, D repeated the same actions with his left foot. Spreading his bare feet on the table for leverage, he gracefully lifted his hips high off the sofa, his lean and toned thighs and abs tensing to keep him steady in the precarious position. D didn’t look bothered, maintaining a cool arrogant composure as he pulled his black pants down over his hips and legs, exposing pale skin inch by inch.

 

“Man, if I didn’t do yoga regularly, I’d be complaining like a bitch at some of the positions you make me do.”

 

Bro made an amused noise and leant forward to get a better look as he spoke into his phone, “I certainly enjoy your incredible flexibility.”

 

“You  _would_.”

 

The pants were now half way down D’s thighs, exposing his Calvin Klein black briefs with a red trim. Bro had to raise an eyebrow at his choice of underwear because D usually wore thongs. He questioned, “Briefs huh?”

 

“Do you want to sit through at minimum, a three hours long meeting with a thong riding up your ass-crack? I may like wearing thongs but there’s a limit, dude.” D said as he continued to pull his pants down his legs, the waistband hitting his knees.

 

“Shame. It would have added to the atmosphere and mood of the strip-show. I’m already feeling less inclined to order your clothes unless you spice it up.” Bro drawled, knowing full well how D would react.

 

* * *

 

D tensed and narrowed his eyes behind his shades at Bro. His pride fiercely warred with his desire for fashion before his desire finally came up trumps. He could always get Bro back later but fashion was far too  _important_. In the meantime, he was going to make Bro regret his mistake. Arching a brow, D allowed a seductive smirk to grow on his face as he purred, “Then I’ll turn up the heat and make you sweat.”

 

D leaned back against the sofa to raise his right foot high in the air, supporting himself with the other foot on the table, keeping his hands on the waistband of his pants to prevent them from sliding back down his thighs from his knees. In an impressive display of flexibility and acrobatics, D slowly pulled his pants off one leg, letting the fine cashmere sensually slide against his skin. Shooting a coy smile at the camera, he lowered his foot onto the sofa, bending his knee. He raised his left foot and let the pants slide down his calf to dangle off his toes, before flicking his ankle to deposit the pants onto the floor.

 

“That’s much better.” Bro said.

 

D wasn’t finished yet. Hooking his thumb into the waistband of his briefs, he raised his other hand to his shades, toying with the silver rimmed handles, as though he was about to remove them. He didn’t. He only lowered them briefly enough to expose his intense red eyes that had made a lion’s share of Hollywood starlets swoon, before hiding them once more behind inscrutable black aviators.

 

D teasingly tugged his briefs down a little with his thumbs, exposing sharply defined hips and a fine trail of blond hair as he gave his best ‘Blue Steel’ look (only bested by the creator Ben Stiller – well, he could have beaten him if he chose to take off his shades, in which case, it would no longer be ‘Blue Steel’ but ‘Red Hot Steel’). Raising one hand to stroke his chest in an exaggerated manner like a bad porno star, he affected a bad german accent, “Are you haffink fun watchink dis?”

 

* * *

 

Bro wasn’t in the mood to enjoy D’s parody and he growled, “Dude. Quit that. It’s very off-putting.”

 

On the screen, D smirked wider, gleeful that he had finally made Bro lose his cool. 1 – 1 now. He kept up the german, “Ist etwas falsch, Bro?”

 

Bro only responded in fluent german, “Sie verlieren die kleidung. Vielleicht, die kleidung wird Nicolas Cage statt.”

 

D couldn’t quite catch all of the harsh german, not as fluent as Bro was but he caught the name and easily got the gist. Pulling a bitch face, he stopped his antics with a huffy, “Okay, I get  _it_. No more fooling around.”

 

“Do what I tell you to do. That will be much less disastrous for everyone involved.” Bro said, brooking no disagreements. D’s jaw tensed on the screen but he kept quiet and made no further move, finally acquiescing to Bro’s will. Satisfied with his compliance, he ordered, “Touch yourself through your briefs, lightly enough that you barely feel it.”

 

After some hesitation, D slowly slid his hand down his stomach to palm his dick lightly through his briefs, biting his lower lip at the teasing touch. His half-tented briefs stretched as he quickly became fully hard, grudgingly aroused by the combination of Bro’s orders, his light touches and the entire situation. Bro keenly watched D’s pale hand move over the stretched fabric in fluttering movements and the line of his body against the sofa.

 

“Keep stroking yourself slowly. You may increase the firmness of your touch but you are not allowed to speed up.”

 

* * *

 

D almost squirmed in his seat, biting his lips to contain a gasp as he obediently pressed his palm harder against himself. He was so tempted to speed up up his strokes but he kept the pace slow, just like Bro would have. Bro didn’t say anything for a long while; the silence of the room only punctuated by D’s low involuntary gasps and hitched breathing. D flushed as he imagined what he must look like to Bro, almost naked on the sofa and rubbing himself off in his briefs. He almost faltered in his slow strokes, embarrassed by situation but his greed and arousal were greater and Bro hadn’t told him to stop.

 

“Hey, it would be great if you could let me know that you’re still there.” He muttered as he began to rock his hips up into his hand, achingly slow. He was warm, his blood heating up in his veins, despite only wearing a shirt and inside an air-conditioned room.

 

“I’m still here, D. Keep doing that.” Bro’s voice answered lowly, his southern twang a little more pronounced. D rolled his hips as he refrained from speeding up, his voice admirably steady in between pants, “I would appreciate it if you would turn on the video so I can see your face. It’s kind of weird to wank off to only your voice, which by the way, you aren’t using at all that much.”

 

“Nah, I don’t feel like turning on the video but I can accede to your request of wanting to hear my voice.” Bro replied.

 

“Cool.” D breathed, disappointed that he wasn’t going to see Bro’s face but he didn’t complain. As long as Bro continued speaking in that southern twang or even in foreign languages like the German earlier, he would be appeased – he’d a bit of a secret weakness for Bro’s smooth voice. D tried his best to keep it a secret but he had the feeling that Bro already knew.

 

“Well then, let’s continue with the next order. Pull your briefs down to your knees and wrap your hand around yourself. Pump yourself slowly, firmly from the base and releasing the pressure on the upstroke, like how I do it to you. ”

 

D swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his dick twitched eagerly under his hand. Bro’s dominating orders combined with the Texan twang were doing things to his stomach and groin. Lifting his hand away from his crotch, he hooked his fingers into his briefs and pulled them down to his knees, leaving him completely exposed, almost groaning in relief as the pressure lessened. Casting a glance at the camera, he spat into his hand before gripping his dick firmly. He began to pump himself in the manner Bro specified, nearly curling in on himself as his breaths soon became unsteady, “Nnhh… Is this what you want?”

 

* * *

 

“Yes.” Bro answered, as he finally removed his shades to take a better look at the video, the colours bright and vivid without the black tint of his shades. D’s black and red briefs contrasted sharply with the pale skin of his thighs and as his orange-amber eyes travelled down D’s legs to his hand sliding up and down his dick, Bro smiled as he heard D’s unsteady pants in his ear. He was thoroughly enjoying the show that D was putting on for him but there was still more he wanted to see. Bro also wanted to see just how far D was willing to go for the sake of his beloved fashion. He questioned, “Do you have lube in your possession?”

 

D breathily replied, “Yeah. It’s in my pants,” as his pale hand continued to work his dick, not once faltering in his pace like a pro – of course, being so attuned to Time, D would have great sense of consistent timing. “Why, are you in need of lube? I’m sorry but Fed-Ex isn’t that fast and sendificators are a big no.”

 

Ah, D’s sassiness still remained. Not that Bro would have expected him to be meek and obedient when he too was a Strider. Snorting, he replied, “Pft. I’m asking because it’s highly relevant to your next order.”

 

D’s cheeks and ears turned a faint pink as he realised what his next order was going to be. Bro grinned at D’s pursed lips as his brows swooped into a frown. D stopped as he turned to look at the camera with a deadpan expression and stated flatly, “No way. I’m not doing that.”

 

Bro only purred, “Prada. Or. Pride.”

 

“Seriously. I sometimes wonder why I ever sleep with you when you’re such a complete douche.”

 

“Not always. Besides, you like  _it_.” Bro quickly dropped the joking tone and sternly ordered, “Now get that lube and bend over the sofa with your pert ass facing me. I also want to see your face, so keep your head turned towards the camera. Do it now, Dave.”

 

Bro watched D shudder on the screen as his breath hitched in his ear, “ _Fuck_.” It was quite arousing that he could easily affect D with just his voice and calling his real name. However, since he already had a younger brother with the same name, Bro preferred to do so only in private, and even then, it was not often. D had understood, also finding it odd to call Bro by his real name, “Dirk” when he too had a younger brother with the same name. So when they addressed each other by their real names, it was either out of intimacy or to assert dominance.

 

* * *

 

D couldn’t contain a shiver that ran through his body when Bro called him by his name in that dominating voice with a slight growl. Feeling even more turned on, D found it hard to keep his face deadpan as he stretched for his pants on the floor and fumbled around in the pockets for the lube. But he managed, though he couldn’t quite conceal the faint blush in his cheeks and ears. Damn his pale complexion.

 

Shoving his embarrassment into a box and padlocking it, D maneuvered himself into a kneeling position as he braced himself against the front of the sofa, his knees resting on the sofa seat. Craning his head to look over his shoulder at his phone camera, he smirked as he slapped his ass (he was pleased to say that it was one of the plushest asses in existence) and squeezed, “You want a piece of this plush rump, huh?”

 

Just for further measure, D impudently wiggled his ass. Bro didn’t deign to reply to his question and just ordered, “Lube your fingers and rub your hole. You are not allowed to touch your dick.”

 

D contained a frustrated growl as he flicked the lube bottle open and slicked his fingers up. Holding onto the top of the sofa for support, he slid his lubed fingers down the crack of his ass with a small shiver as the cold gel met his skin. As he rubbed his fingertips up and down over his hole, the slick gel soon warmed up to the touch and made his skin tingle. His thighs shook with the effort not to close instinctively as his sensitive hole responded to the heat and slick touches, spasming eagerly. D nearly buried his face into his forearm, wanting to stifle his gasp but Bro had ordered him to keep his face turned to the camera, preventing him the luxury of easily hiding his reactions. At least, he was still wearing the shades.

 

As he kept teasing himself, his body responded, his hips unconsciously rocking back to get more friction from his fingers. He ached to have something inside his ass, whether it was his fingers, a dildo or even Bro’s cock. His body was starting to sweat despite the cool air-conditioning as he heated up. D gritted his teeth, not wanting to give in and beg, stubbornly keeping to the slow and teasing strokes over his hole.

 

“My, if you could see yourself right now. I bet that you are dying to put your fingers in your ass, aren’t you?” Bro drawled, the Texan accent dragging his vowels out like rich honey.

 

D took a deep breath and persisted in stroking his ass, his free hand tightening on the sofa. He muttered an insult aimed at Bro under his breath, “Sanctimonious rudist bastard.”

 

“I heard that. You obviously need to stop talking if you’re going to insult people with your mouth. Put your other fingers in your mouth and suck them like they were my dick.”

 

“I’d bite you.”

 

“ _Dave._ ”

 

Bro’s growl seemed to resonate through the room and made his skin prickle. Despite his belligerent pride, D’s cock twitched interestedly. Feeling an anticipatory shiver, he turned his head to look at the camera more fully and questioned, “What are you going to do, if I refuse? I’m not talking about the clothes here anymore.”

 

“You really want to know?”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“I’ll tie you down to the bed and stuff you with a large dildo and leave you like that until I feel like fucking you. You won’t be able to move or touch yourself for at least a good hour. But you would love that, considering you’re such a size queen.”

 

“Fuck.” D shuddered at the thought, finding it more arousing than it had any right to be. He was almost tempted to rebel just so it would happen but he also didn’t fancy the idea of being restrained for so long. He finally took his free hand off the sofa and put his fingers into his mouth and fellated them as he looked at the camera with an insolent raised eyebrow.

 

* * *

 

Bro shook his head at D’s persistent sass. It was quite amusing but also could be at times, very annoying. Deciding to let it drop, he watched D’s fingers slide up and down over his twitching hole. He also kept his eyes on D’s face and his throat muscles working as he fucked his mouth with his fingers. Leaning forward again and resting his elbow on his thigh, Bro rested his chin on his gloved hand and tapped his lips with his index finger, humming thoughtfully as he observed D’s reactions. It was almost time for the next order.

 

“You may now put in one finger. Push it in and out at a rhythmic pace, not too fast and not too slow, sliding it over your prostate each time. Keep sucking your fingers.”

 

D’s moan was muffled around his fingers as he easily pushed in his middle finger up to the knuckle in his ass. Bro vicariously enjoyed the sight of D’s ass eagerly taking in his finger. Judging from the line of his furrowed brow, he could tell that D must have closed his eyes behind his shades. Through the phone pressed to his ear, he could hear soft whines as D fucked himself with his finger on the screen.

 

There were no further sassy remarks from D, his mouth obviously occupied by his fingers and he was now more or less, obedient. Pleased with the progress of this in-flagrante delicto, Bro prompted D, “Two fingers now.”

 

D’s legs trembled on the sofa, his briefs still stretched around his knees. He was thankful that his fingers in his mouth stifled his whorish moan as he eased his slick finger out before pushing back in with two fingers, his hole stretching easily around them. Rocking back and forth on his fingers, his dick accidentally smeared a clear stripe of precum against the smooth leather of the sofa, making him involuntarily groan at the friction and cool sensation of leather on his dick, reminding him intimately of Bro’s hands covered in fingerless leather gloves.

 

* * *

 

D was already losing sense of how much time had passed in the hazy heat and pleasure as he thrust his fingers in and out of his ass. He knew that it must have only been half an hour since this whole ridiculous affair started but it felt longer than that as he fuzzily focused on the sensation of his fingers sliding in and out of his ass and brushing over his prostate, eliciting a shiver and making his dick twitch each time. He probably was making some noises that he would be deeply embarrassed by later, but for now, he just wanted to come, fuck the fashion police.

 

“Three fingers now.”

 

D sighed as he obeyed the order, easing in a third finger; eagerly thrusting his hips back to get more of his fingers in. He even relished the mild stretching burn and the warming lube was already quite warm inside his ass and outside on his skin, making his dick throb. If he were using a dildo with that, it would almost feel like a real dick fucking him right on the sofa. Grunting around his fingers in his mouth, D twisted his fingers further inside, wanting deeper penetration.

 

“Um, Mr. Strider, do you need help? You sound like you’re in pain.”

 

Oh. Fuck.

 

* * *

 

Ice immediately replacing heat in his veins, D yanked out his fingers in his mouth and would have done the same with the ones in his ass if not for Bro’s order, “Don’t. Keep fucking yourself with your fingers and tell the interloper to go away.”

 

“Oh my god, are you insane? I’m just one locked door and a panicked PA away from everlasting media shame. Ms Pots will most likely call in a burly security guard to knock down the door. After fainting at seeing me ignominously undressed and fucking myself, she is going to give me a long lecture, after I’ve dressed and in presentable condition of course, and then depending on how pissed she is, she might take another vacation. For good this time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a good PA like her?”

 

“Not my problem. You can always find another. Calm her down and this will end peacefully.” Bro calmly said.

 

D would have cursed Bro out but he had more pressing concerns to take care of. Taking a deep breath, he replied to his PA, as normally as he could under the circumstances, “I’m fine, in fact, and it would be better if you hadn’t woken me up from my nap. I was sleeping like a baby on this couch. Man, you ought to try and take a nap on one of these fine leather sofas. Oh yeah, can you order one of these sofas for my office?”

 

Bro snorted and reminded him, “Don’t forget to keep moving your fingers.”

 

“You don’t have to remind me!” D hissed as he resumed fucking himself with his fingers, pushing his ass out as he bent lower over the sofa, spreading his knees further apart. His thighs clenched with the effort to keep steady. He heard Bro hum in approval. However, his PA wasn’t convinced and was still outside the room as evidenced by another knock on the door.

 

“Mr. Strider, are you really sure that you don’t need any help or a doctor? You sound rather breathy and under the weather.”

 

Good god. D buried his face in the sofa for a moment as he felt his ears burn with embarassment. He didn’t sound that  _bad_ , did he? Bro wasn’t helping matters as he added his own commentary, “You sound rather lovely actually. Breathless and hoarse like you’d just been thoroughly fucked.”

 

“ _Bro. Shut the fuck up. I mean it_. ” D hissed balefully, shooting a glare at his phone camera before turning to face the door. Undeterred, Bro ordered him again, “Fuck yourself faster and try not to arouse her suspicion.”

 

“ _What_. ” D couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Bro even realise what kind of situation he was in now? Bro seemed to read his mind and replied, “I am aware of your situation but as long as the door’s locked and you can keep your PA away, it’s not critical yet. Are you going to disobey my order?”

 

“…No.”

 

“Thought so. Besides, you’re getting a thrill out of this, aren’t you?” Bro smugly said. D’s cheeks coloured once more at being caught out. His PA’s voice called again in concern, “Mr. Strider? Are you still awake?”

 

“Yes, I’m awake. You don’t have to get anyone. Just leave me alone.” D hurriedly said as he furiously fucked himself on his fingers as Bro ordered, his heart thundering in his chest in a combination of adrenaline and arousal. His dick was aching with the need for release and he bit his other hand to muffle his needy whine as he brushed against his prostate. His PA didn’t seem convinced and replied, “Are you sure?”

 

“Hell yes.” D had to take a breath to cover up a gasp before continuing, “Now go the fuck away. I’ll even give you a long vacation if that’s what it takes for you to stop bugging me, Ms. Pots.”

 

“Oh very well, if you insist. Before I leave, please be reminded that you still have another meeting later today.”

 

D’s patience was already stretched thin from his intensely precarious situation. He snarled, “Cancel all my meetings today. Make up an excuse like I’m sick with the Peruvian flu or something but I’m not-“ A gasp. “-seeing anyone else today.”

 

“Alright.” D strained his ears carefully and heard footsteps walking away. He sagged in relief against the sofa as Bro chuckled, “Well done. You may come now, Dave.”

 

“Oh thank  _god_.” D whispered gratefully as he wrapped his other hand around himself and frantically pumped, continuing to fuck himself on his fingers. Already wound up from both the interruption and Bro’s teasing, it didn’t take much for D to finally come, splattering white come over the black leather sofa with a loud moan that would have had Ms. Pots calling for a doctor if she still had been waiting outside the room.

 

* * *

 

Bro patiently waited for D to recover his breath from his orgasm. When a debauched D finally sat up from the sofa, he apologetically said, “I’m sorry but it’s already too late to ask Prada for the clothes you wanted.”

 

“Are you fucking  _kidding_  me.” D’s trademark deadpan expression cracked, his voice rising in fury, “I just stripped and practically did a lapshow for you because you blackmailed me with the clothes and you have the balls to say that you can’t get them?? Recalcitrant, puppeteering, incompetent, philistine, uncultured, boorish, bastard. You can go and jump on a pike. Fuck you.”

 

Bro couldn’t help it. He laughed. D narrowed his eyes, “What is so funny.”

 

Bro shook his head and retrieved the suitcase, placing it in front of the camera. He finally turned on the video on his laptop and said, “I was pulling your leg. Your clothes are in here.”

 

To prove it, he opened the suitcase, revealing the freebies that he’d gotten and D came very close to squealing like a fangirl when he saw the suits. All too readily, he forgot his ill temper and reverently breathed, “You’re forgiven.”

 

“Quite.” Bro replied in amusement. He closed the suitcase and put it away much to D’s disappointment before he looked at him with a faint smile. He said, “Thanks for the show. I rather enjoyed it a lot.”

 

“ _Duh_ , of course you would, considering your obsession with plush rumps and the fact that I’ve got one of the best butts, no lie.”

 

“It’s your aniversary present so don’t be surprised to get bouquets sometime soon. Love you, Dave.”

 

“Wait, what, did you just-” D paused and blinked. He turned his face to the side, looking incredibly flustered but not adverse. He soon regained his composure and took his shades off. His red eyes met Bro’s orange eyes as he smirked, “You really ought to work on your romantic gestures, Bro. They suck. Love you too by the way.”

 

“Sure. See you next time.” Bro ironically saluted D with two fingers before he finally broke off the call with a smile. It had been a good night all around and he was now going to take a well-deserved long shower and enjoy himself while he was at it. Just as planned.

 

**Fin.**


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